


Spy Games

by Only_1_Truth



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Partial Nudity, Some minor violence, This is what happens when agents are left to entertain themselves, almost domestic fluff but not quite, spy games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth
Summary: On lonely nights when Q works late, the house is never quiet...  00-agents are never bored for long.Or: the fic in which Q's lovers turn the house into their own personal warzone.





	Spy Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MinMu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMu/gifts).



> The 00Q Fest has already begun, and while my fics aren't scheduled to post quite yet (see [here](https://calendar.google.com/calendar/embed?src=kauqe5gchm1bb231p6v5niv5c0%40group.calendar.google.com&ctz=America/New_York) for posting dates), I got the opportunity to write this little ficlet for a friend :) Enjoy the silliness! I've got five fics pending that should start posting around July 16th...
> 
> (Also, the art is by me!)

 

 

007 shifted his weight heel-to-toe, making each barefooted step silent.  The shadows of the darkened house slid across his shoulders with a comforting, invisible weight, but he kept his body crouched low anyway - gun-leading.  This was _his_ house, dammit, and he wasn’t going to get shot just because he hit a patch of moonlight or made a floorboard creak.  The fact that he was dressed in nothing but his pants was immaterial, because an agent of Bond’s calibre was just as dangerous no matter how he was dressed.  The deadliness wasn’t in the bespoke suit - it was in the body beneath, which now continued to move forward with controlled, efficient steps.  What little ambient light there was highlighted flexed shoulders, steady hands.  

There was someone else in the house.  It wasn’t Q, because while Q had a key - and had for over three months now - the Quartermaster had called an hour ago to say that he was going to be very late.  Something about getting 003 out of Turkey, which could very well take all night and stretch on into tomorrow if they weren’t lucky.  

“You’re missing all the action, Q,” Bond murmured to himself with a brutal grin, and even though he’d barely made a whisper of sound, the vase next to him broke.  

James reacted immediately, recoiling and ducking back, intent on making sure the near miss didn’t become a hit in the next five seconds.  It was reflex to work out the trajectory in his head, realizing that he’d forgotten the stairs.  He was a bit new to this house, too - he’d only bought it three and a _half_ months ago, realizing that he might actually live long enough to enjoy having the extra space.  Now, though, it meant that the odds were pretty even between himself and his foe, and it was anyone’s guess who would get the jump on whom next.  

James saw the dull gleam of the gun-barrel next, and it was only with a flying leap that he got to cover in time.  He cursed his lack of clothing as he hit the floor on the other side of the sofa, getting rug-burn on his back and shoulders as he tumbled.  His body was moving on reflex, though, and the pain was pushed efficiently aside as 007’s body flexed and righted itself in a low kneel, gun still in hand.  He bumped up against the coffee-table as he did so, and just managed to reach out and catch a wineglass before it wobbled and fell.  Q liked nice wine-glasses.  

“Fuck, you’re noisy when you get desperate.”

Bond responded to the catcall with a grin, staying low as he took in everything about the darkened room.  His heart was hammering fast and hard in his chest, but the adrenalin was adding an edge like a knife to everything, and it was honestly better than alcohol.  Growing reckless, he gripped the wineglass harder and said a silent apology to Q.  He called back brashly, “Who says I’m getting desperate?”

The response was instantaneous: two more shots honed in on the sound of Bond’s voice, just missing because the sofa was in the way.  But, more importantly, it also lured the other shooter out into the open, the promise of an easy shot too much to resist.  Alec’s pants-clad form hove into view as a paler shadow amidst darker shadows at the base of the stairs, and James timed his movement in the seconds where 006 was checking if he’d hit his target: the wine-glass tumbled end over end, the clear glass almost invisible in the dimness, and shattered against the banister to Alec’s right.  

 _“_ _Chyort voz’mi!”_ Alec swore, flinching away.  At the same time, Bond switched his gun to a one-handed grip and vaulted over the sofa.  He brought the weapon to bare again the second he had even a modicum of balance, but even by then, 006 was reacting - he had fight-or-flight instincts, too.  Eyes widening almost comically as he saw 007 coming at him, gun rising again, Alec lunged for the adjoining hallway.  

Bond’s airsoft gun still went off before Alec completely managed his escape, and James grinned fiercely as he all but saw the airsoft pellet _thwak_ against Alec’s bare thigh, just below the hem of his compression shorts.  James was even more certain he’d made the hit because Alec swore again, even more colorfully and vehemently than before.  

Technically, this was just a game of tag - but since it was 00-agent-style tag, it wasn’t anywhere near over, so Bond immediately followed after his prey.  “Ready to roll over and die yet, Alec?”  

Alec’s scoff was quite eloquent all on its own, from somewhere around the corner.  “Oh, come on, that was nowhere near a lethal hit.   _You_ should be dying of embarrassment, with a shot like that.”  No sooner had he finished the sentence than Alec was surging upwards - 007 had just rounded the corner, and Alec had been waiting.  Since agents like them were trained to lead with their gun, Alec’s hands clamped over the weapon, and a struggle ensued.  All agents fought dirty, but Alec in particular liked to say ‘fuck you’ to the rules, so really, James should have expected the fight to go from airsoft guns to hand-to-hand.  

“I wasn’t the one who thought a wine-glass was a grenade,” James grunted, otherwise continuing the conversation like everything was normal, even as he and his best mate rolled around on the floor like a massive pair of tomcats.  Nearly naked ones.  Adding clothing to the game provided too much opportunity for concealed weaponry.  Both of them had a hold of 007’s gun in a grip that was nigh unbreakable, but James knew Alec’s tactics, and when he briefly gained the upperhand - Alec under him, trapped momentarily by 007’s weight - James looked around to see where Alec had stashed his own gun before risking everything on a sneak-attack.  He thought he saw it, hiding under a decorative table that Alec liked to drop his keys on whenever he got home.  Before James could disengage and go for it, Alec hooked a leg around his and suddenly they were rolling.  Alec came out on top with a triumphant, wolfish grin.  

“Hey, my reaction is a sign of _good_ training - yours is a sign that you’re a pisspoor shot,” Alec panted back, hair by now a tousled mess falling over his forehead.  Underneath him, looking up, all James could see was shadow broken by a flash of white teeth.  Alec was just a bit bigger than him - not a lot, but James could feel the extra half-stone of weight and the advantage it was giving Alec.  In a last-ditch effort to not get shot - which would hurt and bruise like hell from this range, and maybe even damage something - James jerked his torso to the side, momentarily gained control of the gun, and ejected the clip.  Alec made a noise of surprise, and James smirked victoriously - James had been in charge of ordering the toys for this venture, so he’d made sure to pick pieces that he knew inside and out.  With the weapon now useless, James instantly let it go, instead lunging upwards to put Alec in a choke instead.  

Usually, they were trained to do this with clothing on.  Most effective chokes from their respective positions depended on taking clothing and twisting it or tightening it, cutting off air with taut fabric.  Without any of that to really work with, the grappling got a lot messier, both men snarling and cursing at one another in various languages as they started rolling across the floor.  James managed to get close to the remaining airsoft gun that way, but only at the expense of the table, which fell over with a rather spectacular crash.  Unfortunately, the second Bond got his fingers on the gun, Trevelyan’s weight crashed down on him from behind, leaving James pinned on his belly with almost fourteen-stone of 00-agent on his back.  

Just as Alec was twisting Bond’s right arm up behind his shoulder-blades - not the hand holding the gun, however, which remained out of reach - forcing a low hiss out of the other man, the door unlocked and opened with a familiar, almost polite creak.  

Alec and James both froze, looking across the hallway to the entranceway and blinking owlishly as their Quartermaster shuffled in and flicked on the lights.  

Q had been dating both 00-agents off and on for almost a year - off and on having to do with which agent was enough in his good graces at the moment to deserve sex.  During that time, his tolerance for spy-related shenanigans had risen laudably, and he of all people understood and accepted that MI6 assassin-spies were simply _not_ normal people.  This current tableau was on a whole other level, apparently, as Q just stared at them stupidly for a second while absently closing the door.  As soon as it clicked shut, however, he slid his messenger back off his shoulder to the floor with a light thump and pushed his fingertips up under his glasses, against his closed eyes.  “Good god, why are you two allowed out of the country and trusted with state secrets?” he said into his palms.  “I don’t even want to know.  No.  Wait.  Yes, I do.”  He lifted his face until his eyes were peaking out now over his fingertips, making his exasperated voice slightly muffled as he demanded, “What the fuck are you doing fighting in the dark in nothing but your skins?”

Alec and James just continued blinking back at Q for a moment.  After a long, awkward beat, however, Alec cleverly replied, “We _do_ have pants on, actually.”

James, grunting and baring his teeth again because of the continued strain on his right shoulder-joint, chimed in a beat later, “And we were waiting for you.”

Q blew out a sigh and sagged back against the door, looking a bit like a fashionable scarecrow in his oversized Anorak and well-fitted skinny jeans.  “I swear, you’re like the two pet demons I never asked for.”  At the mention of pets, Q grew suddenly alert, looking around in growing alarm.  “Shit.  Where are my cats?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jamesy put them up in the bathroom before we got out the airsoft guns,” Alec assured.  When James tried to subtly wriggle free, 006 firmed up his grip reflexively.  007 gave it up with a sigh, letting himself go limp against the floor, dragging in the hand still gripping the gun and tucking it under his chin for comfort.  Alec, who still only got along with one of Q’s three cats, finished innocently, “They’re safe as houses.  Litter-box and everything.”

Q had finally noticed the airsoft guns - mostly the one in Bond’s hand, tucked under his chin now.  Then, expression frozen, the boffin slowly leaned to the left, where the house was divided in such a way as to give a good view into the living room.  And the stairwell.  Where furniture was pushed around and there was broken glass on the floor.  This time Q pulled his glasses off so that he could properly drag his hand down his face and said, “This is what dating two agents means, isn't it?” under his breath.  Alec and James both had exceptionally keen hearing despite their frequent use of guns, however, and heard it, but weren’t sure exactly what Q was getting at.  

Finally, Q lowered his hands, still leaning on the door, then put his glasses back on.  Very purposefully, he picked up his bag again to put it away properly, but kept his shoes on - probably wise, given the glass, and Q’s dislike of seeing his own blood on the wrong side of his skin.  Q walked up to the agents, stopping and squatting down in front of Bond’ first.  “Give me that,” he commanded in his unflappable ‘Quartermaster tone,’ reaching out a beckoning hand for the airsoft gun.  “Come on.”  

With a little huff, James complied, giving up the weapon easily even as Q looked above him and raised an eyebrow at Alec.  “You - let him up.  Did you damage him?”  Alec murmured "no," but 00-agent standards for 'undamaged' were notoriously out of sync with reality, so Q's hands were pressing against Bond's shoulder join even as blue-eyed man was freed to rotate his arm forward again.  Q was no medical professional, but he could apparently tell that nothing was dislocated, so he with drew his touch.  

Only after both agents were standing - a bit stiffly and sorely, since James’s shoulder ached and Alec’s leg was beginning to bruise - did Q, also on his feet, rub his chin thoughtfully and comment, “You know, I really should have saved a picture of that…”  Then he gave up, shuffling towards the stairs with a yawn and one last order, “You’ve got amnesty until morning, but if I wake up and see broken shit everywhere, I’m going to be very fucking unhappy with you both.”

James and Alec exchanged glances, both of them thinking the same thing: if Q was swearing, even if he sounded perfectly calm, then they’d better do it.  Pleasantly buzzed still from their game of ‘tag,’ the two agents fell naturally to putting the house back in order.  They worked in a companionable silence, so quiet in fact that they could hear Q shuffling around: the familiar sounds of him moving between the three rooms, deciding where to sleep; checking the bathroom and verbally soothing the cats; starting a shower then thinking better of it, knowing that he’d fall asleep under running water when he was this tired.  Bond and Trevelyan knew his habits, even if Q still sometimes had to wrap his head around theirs.  

When everything was cleaned, and both agents were settling into a calm, steady mindset like that of wolves after a hard, successful hunt, James and Alec mounted the stairs.  They both headed unerringly for the first bedroom on the left, having pinpointed that as the room Q had chosen.  The bed big enough for three.  An unspoken sign that he wasn’t actually mad at them for terrorizing the house in his absence.  Or, at least, not too mad.

Q was curled up right in the middle of the king-sized bed.  Alec made a brief disgruntled noise past his teeth as he recognized Q’s three furballs - Winken, Blinken, and Nod - already occupying various positions on the covers.  Proving that he was not quite asleep, their Quartermaster murmured blearily but wryly, “This is payback for playing spy-games in the house.  Cats on the bed tonight.”  Q was a softie, and it was usually up to James and Alec to enforce any sort of rules about where the cats were and were not allowed to go.  Q had won tonight, though, so both agents just slipped onto the bed from either side without argument.  

Seeing an opportunity for ingratiating himself a little bit, wanting to warm Q’s tetchy mood, James leaned in around Winken and nuzzled up against Q’s cheek.  “At least we put the cats up.  We’d never want to scare your cats,” he assured lowly, and actually sincerely.  

Alec slid in behind Q with a grunt as he moved his bruised leg.  He shot Bond a glare.  Bond just smirked and shrugged.  Sighing and giving up on that grievance, Alec gingerly moved a fluffy grey thing off his pillow and added, “Not even that terror, Nod.”

“Nod is just misunderstood,” Q mumbled blearily, half-asleep and eyes not even open.  As if hearing his name, Nod resettled himself on Q’s pillow - sitting above Q’s head like a fat, furry crown.  It looked ridiculous.  

“I think that Nod and Alec don’t get along because they’re too alike,” James opined wisely, pretending not to notice Alec’s contemptuous look as he slowly and carefully gripped the cat in question.  James knew that moving too fast would get him scratched, but patience yielded rewards.  Nod pawed at James’s arm with sheathed claws, then resettled again with a toothy yawn once he was placed on Q’s feet.  Q made a soft noise, burrowing deeper into the bed.  Cats moved but not totally displaced, James and Alec settled in on either side of Q, a bit wary of their welcome still until Q hummed and wriggled to get a better fit for himself.  Sleepy-Q was a favorite treat, and both agents smiled unabashedly at the sight of it.  

“Good now, Q?” Alec asked, slinging an arm over Q’s middle, scooting closer to spoon the younger man’s slim frame.  James crooked his arm under Q’s pillow, and felt a surge of ridiculous pride as Q wriggled, forfeited the pillow altogether, and used Bond’s bicep to cradle his head instead.  Slender, dexterous hands curled up against Bond’s chest where they could best feel the warmth of him.  

“Hmm,” Q agreed, only engaging his vocabulary a long moment later, when James and Alec were starting to believe him fully asleep, “Maybe it’s not so bad… you two hunting each other through the house.”

Surprised and honestly suspicious, James looked at Alec - Alec shrugged, confused, too - and then focused on Q again to say cautiously, “Really?”

“Hmm,” Q hummed positively again, this time with a whimsical little smile pulling at his mouth.  He arched his back into Alec and curled his head closer to James, feet staying still so they wouldn’t jar the puddle of cats across his feet and ankles.  “Is nice… coming home to both of you…”  Q’s fingertips of his left hand dragged down between Bond’s pectoral muscles.  “And I don’t even have to ask you to sleep with me naked.”  He sounded so pleased.  

Alec was shaking with quiet chuckles, and was grinning broadly as he pointed out with mock solemnity - for the second time, “We actually _are_ wearing pants.”  When Q honest-to-god growled at him, Alec just pulled him closer with the snug arm around Q’s trim waist, kissing his nape.  

James, for his part, trapped the two long-fingered hands against his chest, feeling the digits spread out above his heartbeat like leaves opening up to soak up the sun.  Like Alec, he leaned forward, laying his own kiss on the tip of Q’s nose.  He rumbled fondly, “You barely have to ask if you want to sleep with us naked, Q.”  Another kiss, butterfly-light, over one closed eye.  Q’s breath whispered out in a little sigh.  Beyond Q’s tousled head of hair, Alec’s eyes were growing sleepy.  James looped an arm over Q so that his hand curled over Alec’s shoulder, a gesture not unlike tethering a ship to a friendly shore in the night.  

And everyone fell into a quiet sleep, knowing that none of them really had to ask anything of the others - not anything important, at least.  Because they’d decided already, in an unspoken way, that they’d give anything for this little spot of safety and normalcy that the three of them had carved out together.  Of course, Alec would limp and whine all of the next day, complaining about how inhumanely James had shot him; James would tease him for whining, then face the wrath of Q for using one of his wine glasses as a projectile weapon, and Bond would have to kiss him to shut him up, to make it up to him, to distract him from the fact that they’d broken the decorative hallway table, too.  Then Alec would come up behind Q, using the distraction of the kissing to wrap an arm around Q’s middle and pin him in place.  The apology would become somewhat more complicated then, and Q’s cats would finally be evicted from the bed because the three men wanted to use it for other purposes.  

So far as relationships went, it wasn't’ typical, and was probably quite broken from some angles.  But it worked.  

_“You think that Q will let us play tag again anytime soon?”_

_“Doubtful.  He tolerated it last time because he was too shocked to get excited about it.”_

_“He was also half-asleep.  But maybe…?”_

_“What are you thinking?”_

_“What if we invited him to participate next time?”_  

Yeah, it wasn’t typical, but it worked.  

**Author's Note:**

> I don't say this enough: but thank you to everyone who comments and says such lovely things. Those comments make my entire day every time I read them, and I regret that I don't often have time to reply. As a graduate student, life is busy, and I've realized that I have time to either write stories for you guys, or reply to comments... but sadly not both. So know that I love and cherish every comment <3


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